bunnyblog

So, been busy.

That’s a lie. I’ve sat on my arse and played C&C 3 all week. The most polished game in history, seriously. Everything is good except Trisha Helfer’s acting.¹

Off the whisky. So I’m on the Stella, which is not the world’s greatest move, but meh. I’m weak.

Meant to go to the Catty tonight, but that’s off. Also meant to see the Boys tonight, I don’t think i can be arsed trekking all the way across the country to be honest. Sitting in and falling asleep sounds like an awesome plan.

1. my lord. We’re talking Scott Bakula levels of grace-falling here, especially next to ms Park’s sections. [↩]

#43538: Hawt women who hide their boyfriend-allegiance.

I’m really getting pissed off now. It’s beginning to drain my soul. I can but hope for there to be nice wimminz in Ed tomorrow, but chances are there won’t be. Worse, I have my heart set on the Previous, which is likely to cause further heartbreak. Oh Lord, won’t you buy me, a Mercedes Benz cute future wife.

I just bought GetRight. Eight years of guilt, gone.

Jones is spamming me with prank calls. By Christ.

Things always start weirdly I suppose. Dreams on Thursday involved trying keep fish alive, with a large jar and a test tube.

Quietest day ever in work, not that I’m complaining. Got home, shower, shit, shave, the rest, in Glasgow for half seven. Saw Davie and le boys. DJ Format was doing the Art School, which may have made it non-shit. If I’d survived.

But no, I had to go to the best gig ever. By the time I came out I just needed to go home and bask in the awesomeness of it.

Oddly, only people I saw that I knew were Kev and Mary. No Danni, Daisy etc. Oh well, suppose I’ll see later who all went.

Last train to Edinburgh is 11:30. Last to Ayr is 12:15. Who knew. So boosted southwards.

Now to wash a shirt and get back to Edinburgh. Pah. Half eleven and I’m already pressed for time. The wonders.

For some reason my network connection is now playing up. Timeouts when trying to access shit. It’s my network drivers; disabling them fixes it. Fucking great. I suppose I’ll look into this at some point.

I am fucking starving. Roll on tonight’s curry.

Bis-sensation trembling. I need to dig out a copy of New Transistor Heroes, can’t find either of mine just now. Bah. Listening to Intendo for the first time in, like, five years just now. Crazy that I can remember all the lyrics to songs I’ve forgotten the names to.

Last night was fun enough. Good seeing people occasionally, good actually being invited out. Place was bursting with quim as well, which is always good. Here’s hoping Friday is as good.

Last night’s weird dream was about trying to find a cash machine in Doonfoot. I have no idea what that means.

Kimberley McKay asked my sister about me. She’s now like 17. This raises literally dozens of questions.

Listening to Social Dancing again. YAY. I may spend the whole of Friday’s gig in tears at this rate.

Got drunk last night, which wasn’t the greatest of ideas, but meh. We’ll see how I look on Friday. Hopefully fabulous. Everyone knows the best future wives go to Bis gigs.

Allan and Lisa hopefully up tonight. I get to show off. Raaa.

Hoovered, fixed shelves, cleaned hob, got FLOSS AND SOCKS.

I-am-God.

José Mourinho’s two pet elephant rats. These are rats the size (and roughly the shape) of elephants, in indestructible glass cages by the side of the pitch.

I am frankly glad this is all I remember from last night’s dreams. Don’t leave the curtains open during a really bright full moon, kids.